


Since I Last Saw You

by Anonymous



Category: Disney Duck Universe, DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: AU where they're aware of the other universes, Alcohol Abuse, Alternate Canons, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Definitely more on the DT17 side of the spectrum here, Discussed Self-Worth Issues, Dissociation, Don't copy to another site, Donald and Della Are Both Safe in this, Enemies to Enemies but nicer this time, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Please Be careful, Probably ooc, Season 2 spoilers, Unrequited Love, glomgold has bunches of them, the "major character death" is the other universes' versions of Flinty and Scrooge, there is a lot of comic lore and references though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 19:43:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20569832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Scrooge McDuck and Flintheart Glomgold, through touching a super-cursed gemstone, obtain memories of themselves from other universes. Their plan is to obtain the gemstone and reverse it, but various obstacles and one very upset Magica DeSpell have different ideas, so for now, they have to make peace. Which they totally can do, they're sure. Somehow.[An AU where Scrooge and Flintheart from DT17 become aware of DT87's and the comics' versions of themselves.]





	1. The Slippery Slope (or, The Sapphire of Souls!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome. Please read the tags and summary before continuing. Also note that warnings are in the tags, and will also be marked per chapter so you know when to be careful.  
Warnings: dissociation.

“Don’t touch that!” shouted Goldie as Scrooge picked up the gemstone. He immediately set it back on its clay pedestal, but given her reaction, it was probably too late to avoid her wrath. Staring at it, he couldn't tell exactly why.

She ran over to him, picking the gemstone up. Her hands were gloved.

“Be _ careful, _Scroogey!” Goldie took hold of his wrist after putting the sapphire in her bag.

"You thieving pain in the tailfeathers-"

“That gemstone’s _ dangerous!” _There was a quality in her voice that he wasn’t used to hearing. “Why do you think we couldn’t take your nephews along with us?”

“Because you’d probably just leave them at the Kid’s Center at the rest area?”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “I mean, you’re right, but-” She stopped cold. "Hush.”

A rumbling roar sounded in the cave, the echo stinging their ears. They covered them, glancing at each other in horror.

“What’s happening?” asked Goldie. A falling pebble of fool’s gold from the ceiling, around the size of a marble, answered her question.

“A cave-in. We’ve got to go.” He glanced up at the ceiling of the tunnel they were in. It didn’t look like it’d hold very long.

“Just as it was getting fun, too.” She grabbed his hand as they ducked down, barely dodging a boulder made of pyrite. The sound of breaking stone was never a pleasant one, especially when it was coming from stones that were trying to kill you.

Scrooge tried to get up, but couldn’t; the boulder was heavy and had trapped them against the wall. His adrenaline was starting to really kick in now. “Have we learned that the Tunnels of Tourmaline are probably off limits for a very good reason?”

“Yes, we’ve learned.” She swept some more gold into her bag. “Lovely luster, though, isn’t it?”

_ “No time! _ Help me kick the boulder out of the way so we can get out!"

As they wrangled themselves free and ran, they felt the floor rumble underneath them.

In awe, terrified, captivated- there weren’t words to describe how Scrooge felt as they sprinted for the exit, and he always felt like this with her. Why did encounters with Goldie always end on a similar note, with dodging dangerous material as they fought for a precious object underground?

They just barely managed to get into the safer main-tunnel when the other one caved in entirely. Scrooge checked to make sure that she wasn’t hurt.

“Feeling all right?”

“Why, of course. Haven’t lost my touch.” She smiled. “Is all this adventuring getting to your bones, old man?”

Scrooge didn’t have time to respond before looking around the darkness. “Goodness, it’s so dark… Here.” He handed her a lantern, lighting it. The cave’s walls began to twinkle, gems catching their eyes. “Huh. Legendary cave, all right.”

“Well, that’s not common.” Goldie tossed Scrooge his satchel with a smile. “Get to it, Scroogey.”

They chipped away at the walls, tossing the gems in. They were all greens and reds, with Scrooge finding a formidable pink crystal, but nothing was as stunning as the sapphire, which Scrooge needed to get back somehow. They were all poor quality, enough to display and show off, but nothing else, and the biggest was the size of a particularly self-important gingersnap. Even so, Scrooge and Goldie never looked a gift horse in the mouth. (And Goldie was probably planning on selling them to people that didn't know anything about gemstones, turning a quick buck.)

“What could have caused the cave-in, d’you think?” he asked her.

Goldie sighed as she put a gumdrop-sized emerald in her bag. “Maybe Glomgold. He did swear that he’d follow you here, and he did have a drill...”

“Yes, but even Glomgold wouldn’t be so daft as to drill a way into a dangerous tunnel.”

She gazed at him with a look that said _ Are you quite so sure? _just before they heard the rocks from the buried tunnel start to shift. When they realized it wasn’t another cave-in, Goldie picked up the lantern and walked towards it.

A hand reached through the rubble.

“Oh, great.” She put the lantern and her satchel down, ran over, and tugged hard, leaving Duckburg’s second-richest duck crumpled on the floor and yelling incoherent somewhat-Glaswegian slang. “See? Told you it was Glomgold.”

Scrooge ran over, holding his pickaxe to his rival’s throat before he got any ideas. He immediately shut up. “What do you think you’re doing in these tunnels, Flinty?”

“I’m being myself!” shouted Glomgold. “Ugh, now there’s gravel all over me.” Nudging Scrooge’s cane out of the way and getting back on his feet, he took off his beard (right, Scrooge reminded himself, that thing was fake), shook the pebbles out, and put it back on.

“How long were you stuck under there?”

“Maybe a few seconds, after I tried to leave my tunneling machine.” He straightened himself up. “Hello, Goldie! Still wasting your time on this old fossil?”

“‘Old fossil’ him all you want,” muttered Goldie.

“Seriously, go ahead,” Scrooge added.

“Quiet! Don’t think you’re succeedin’ in making me jealous, now. Wouldn’t want to start a fight in front of our guest.” Turning to Scrooge, he let out a soft growl. “I just know that I can totally steal your material wealth, your position as richest duck, _ and-" _

Glomgold’s eyes lit up with something adjacent to greed as he sighted Goldie’s satchel, catching a glimpse of the treasure inside. Before Scrooge could warn him, he dove for the gemstones, picking the sapphire up (of course) and admiring himself in it. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? See, McDuck?! I can obtain better-”

“Give that back, Flintheart!” Goldie plucked it from his hand and put it back in her satchel. “Does _ no-one _know that you shouldn’t go touching anomalies during adventures, or do I have to remind you all again?”

“What’s that one do?” asked Scrooge.

“This is the Sapphire of Souls, and it has a powerful curse,” she said with importance. Glomgold’s joy slid off his face as he wiped his hands on his kilt. “Look, you two can go on gallivanting about on your own, but I’m getting out of here with my sanity intact.”

“Goldie!”

“All right, all right.” She took Scrooge’s hand. “Let’s go. Er, do you remember which cave leads up…?”

“That one. I marked it.”

“Of course you did.”

“Wait!” shouted Glomgold. “Can I leave, too? My machine’s kinda… broken…”

“We can’t trust him!” pointed out Goldie. “Are you up for being the victim of attempted murder again? Trusting someone once is trusting someone one time too much, right? Besides, remember what happened?”

Glomgold let out a whimper, something between disbelief and fear. “If I had known this would happen-”

“Oh, don’t play the saint!”

“His drill caused the only cave-in.” Scrooge sighed. “I don’t think that it’ll happen again. Besides, he’ll starve! Or dehydrate!”

“We can leave him some of our rations. That’s how I learned, you know.” She glared at Scrooge. “Under duress. Look, we have more than enough water, and we can leave him the cranberry rations.” She wrinkled her snoot; those were her least favorite.

“Then he’ll just starve or dehydrate slightly slower!”

“Oh, he’s more than capable of escaping! Last time, he took you and the golden statue I planted along with him!”

“Look, it just… It wouldn’t be sporting. I do things square, O’Gilt.”

“Okay, okay. If you insist, we’ll do it your way.”

* * *

‘Scrooge’s way’ happened to be tying Glomgold’s wrists together with some rope, and tying that rope around Scrooge’s waist as Goldie led the way out. Despite his usual shocking lack of situational awareness, he didn’t say a word, not even to complain, as they climbed back to the surface.

“You don’t seem too chipper, Glomgold,” he said as they went back to town. Goldie had stolen Glomgold’s helicopter _ and _the Jeep they were driving simultaneously, by ways unknown. The discount bus had to do.

“Well… I must admit you’ve done something worthy of a thank you, McDuck.” He blinked before grinning. “Of course I will _ not _ thank you! Not at all! This will force you to acknowledge the _ truth _that you are the worst trillionaire in Duckburg, the most cursed, and the least likely to make decisions that-”

“Ah, don’t worry, Flinty, it’s probably not cursed. She just lies like that sometimes.”

“Maybe it _ was _cursed, you know.”

Caution and Glomgold were like roofing nails and peppermints. If the two were in the same context, something had already gone very, very wrong.

Scrooge glanced him over. Nothing stood out as being broken, bloodied, or bruised, so the old duck wasn’t trying to ignore pain or anything of that sort. “What happened when you touched the gem?”

“Oh, I didn’t feel anything for a while. At all. I don’t feel anything strange, I’m fine.” Glomgold groaned in a manner that seemed uncanny coming from him. “What mile are we on? It's eighty back to Duckburg, so surely we're almost halfway done? Maybe close to the end?"

"We're on mile two."

"Damn it! I _ hate _riding next to you, I hate this bus-”

“It was our only option after she stole our transport.”

“No! No, I could have just walked to Duckburg-”

“Walk _eighty miles_ to Duckburg?!”

“Of course! Why do I even need to answer to you when you’re only ahead of me by two dollars and thirty-eight cents?!”

“...Flinty. You’re a billionaire. I’m a trillionaire. That's at least a thousand more than you.”

“No, we’re almost even! Remember the silver dollars?” His voice cracked, his accent slipping strangely into another one.

“What silver dollars?”

“Oh, now you’re _ tryin’ _to drive me off the rails! The silver dollars? The Son of the Sun? The Transvaal?" Glomgold's voice reached a desperate fever-pitch. "All this is gibberish to you?!”

“What the hell are you-”

He paused.

The Transvaal… that was in South Africa. That was when Scrooge met Glomgold for the first time. Even thinking of it now, he could remember when that-

Wait. That was wrong. When they met for the first time, he didn’t call himself Glomgold. Besides, the shoe-shine that would become Flintheart Glomgold was considerably younger than Scrooge. But when Scrooge was the Terror of the Transvaal, they were the same age.

Closing his eyes, he tried to think, rationalizing something that now seemed wholly uncanny. No, both of those seemed wrong… Scrooge McDuck had an enemy in Flintheart Glomgold, true, but the Glomgolds and the McDucks had feuded for as long as the Whiskervilles had-

A wave of nausea crashed over him when he realized that none of these memories meshed together. They all seemed like bits of information that had no place in reality and did not belong there. None of these memories, though they were clear as day, made any sense in his mind. None of them attached to anything else.

Gripping onto the side of the seat, he tried to remember what Goldie had said about the Sapphire of Souls. Speaking of, what was Goldie doing in Calisota in the first place? Wasn’t she supposed to be on their claim in Dawson?

“Tell me, when we first met, did you take my money-clip, or my supplies?” asked Scrooge.

"How could I, an upstanding gentleman, _steal-"_

"Damn it, don't worry about that! Just answer."

“They both sound right,” he whispered.

“Can you remember when we first met?”

Glomgold tried to straighten his senses out, but it clearly didn't work. “I think it was when we started fighting in Duckburg? I took a flight out from Edinbirdugh-"

“I thought you were just a shoe-shine from South Africa?”

“I was! I mean, I _ am! _I mean..."

Scrooge froze. The bus seemed to speed up as they looked at each other.

“...Do you know what I’m thinking?”

“I think we should look into that gemstone,” and it was the most reasonable idea that Scrooge had ever heard from Glomgold’s beak.

* * *

Huey glared at Flintheart. Apparently, he had developed an intense dislike of the man from having witnessed seventy-eight schemes too many. “Why are you in my uncle’s house?”

“Something has gone wrong,” explained Scrooge. “During our adventure.”

“Why were you adventuring with Uncle Scrooge?!” Huey stood up, pulling out his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook and seemingly getting ready to hit him with it. “Were you going to make an evil scheme and kill him?”

Flintheart, wondering if he could sue a child for slander, decided that it was not worth the shouting he’d get from his board of directors. Stocks would drop, anyways. “Of course not, lad. I was just going to steal his possessions.”

Huey glanced at Uncle Scrooge and gestured in Flintheart’s direction, as if to say _ You see this man?  
_

“We, er… may or may not have touched a gemstone which was definitely cursed,” explained Scrooge. “The Sapphire of Souls.”

“Oh! Like the one that Webby made up for the game?”

“Just like that, lad."

"What happened?"

"We remembered strange things. Things that seemed like what we would do," Scrooge murmured, "but it was just _different, _lad. And if the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook truly knows everything about everything…”

“Not _ everything..” _pointed out Flintheart, much to Huey's dismay.

“Most things.” He took off his hat and slipped the book under it into his hand. “The Sapphire of Souls... let's see. ‘Its true origin has been obscured by legends, but…’ oh, phooey.”

“What is it?”

“It says that it’ll give you memories from other universes.”

Scrooge took off his hat, holding it in his hands. His eyes didn’t focus on anything. “Does it list a cure, lad?”

Huey’s voice was quiet. “No.”

“All those memories are real, then?” asked Flintheart as quietly as he could.

“It says so.” He glanced at Scrooge. “Are they _ bad _memories, Uncle Scrooge?”

Flintheart turned to him, too. The years seemed to be taking their toll on the old duck, but in a familiar way that had no business being familiar, Flintheart had seen that expression before. When Flintheart left Duckburg for the last time to go back to South Africa, he remembered that mournful look, and now-

“No, lad, they’re fine. Just a bit confusing after a while.” He smiled at him. “Weren’t you and the others going to try to build a shack in the yard?”

“Yeah, that was the plan…”

“Ask Mrs. Beakley to help. I’ve got to discuss something with Mr. Glomgold.”

Huey nodded. “Okay. Bye, Uncle Scrooge! Eh… bye, Glomgold. Sorry about the curse thing.”

He ran out.

“...What now, McDuck?”

“Honestly? No clue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pro tip: wear gloves when handling cursed artifacts. i'm sure that'll cover everything and that nothing else can possibly go wrong if you do that  
Thank you so much for reading.


	2. Don't Fear The Reaper (Fear the Scythe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning, there's a depicted death (not in our main universe though). Also, characters drink a not-inconsiderable amount of alcohol to cope with a troubling problem. This isn't a depiction of alcoholism, but I wanted to warn anyone who would be uncomfortable.
> 
> Spoilers for Don Rosa's The Life And Times Of Scrooge McDuck, Scrooge's Last Adventure, and The Ballad of Duke Baloney.

Flintheart Glomgold, in all his years of knowing Scrooge McDuck, had never seen his rival back down at anything. He was always vivacious, claiming the good and bad equally- but right now, he looked so _ tired. _

He would’ve said something. Honest, he would’ve. Even so, as he reached his hand out, he realized that he had seen him like this before.

“Well, we know what needs to be done.” Scrooge got up. “I’ll have to look in my research- find out where exactly the Sapphire’s from. Then we can undo the effects.”

“Do you think it’s as bad as he said? Memories from other universes- and for you, they’re not bad ones, I understand, but-”

“But nothing, Glomgold. We’ve got our answer, and I‘m gonna try to find what we can do about it.” He glanced at him. “If I were you, I’d go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow’ll be a big day.”

Scrooge droned on about whatever he wanted to drone on about, that terrible trillionaire, but Flintheart Glomgold knew what he had to do. He took his leave, nodding and going out. Scrooge must’ve decided he wasn’t worth the trouble.

He called down his driver, treating the journey back to his offices with as much contempt as he could contain. He needed to hate going back home because of the traffic or the people, not because he hated leaving Scrooge.

Oh, no. He looked _ forward _to leaving him.

At least, he hoped he did, he thought as he fell asleep.

* * *

_ “The one and only Flintheart Glomgold!” _

_ People cheered and booed. He didn’t care either way. He lived for the attention, the bright lights on him. He hadn't been feeling well today, that was true, but what could he do? (Something did feel wrong, though. Something felt like he was falling apart, but the interview...)  
_

_ “You know,” the newscaster said to him, “the only bigger celebration-of-arrival in Duckburg history was-” _

_ “Scrooge McDuck’s, I know,” he muttered, “but I mean, come on, what does that even mean next to this?” _

_ “Well, you’re almost neck-in-neck with him, aren’t you? I believe you lost by… 2 dollars and thirty-eight cents.” _

_ Flintheart felt his arm grow numb; he itched at it thoughtlessly. “Bah, so he can afford a candy bar and a soda. I have public opinion on my side!” _

_ “That’s…” The newscaster looked like they wanted to protest, but they didn’t dare. Good. “All right, Mr. Glomgold! You know, you’re now the second most trusted brand, after John D. Rockerduck. What do you make of that?” _

_ Flintheart nearly spit out his drink. “What the- _ John D. Rockerduck?! _ Him, of all people?” _

_ “Yes, don’t you remember?” _

_ “No, no, no, that can’t be. Isn’t he the oil tycoon…? I thought he died a long time ago.” His words weren’t coming out clear enough. _

_ The newscaster shook their head. “He’s alive and well and your biggest competitor next to Scr- can we cut the interview? Can we cut this off? Mr. Glomgold, the side of your beak is…” _

_ He looked in the polished glass behind them; some crazy, old man was mirrored back at him. _

_ “That can’t be right.” _

_ “For God’s sake, get a medic, he’s very clearly unwell. Mr. Glomgold? Mr. Glomgold! Are you feeling-” _

Flintheart woke up in a cold sweat. He turned on his phone, getting notifications about Mark Beaks and Scrooge McDuck. Thank God! He was where he was meant to be.

He took a few deep breaths, huddling under the blankets and feeling his own hands to make sure they were warm. He wasn’t sure how he ended up in the bed, but he’d be damned if he’d complain.

* * *

The Duckburg Ice Cream Parlor, Scrooge remembered, was where he and Flintheart settled deals, for quite simple reasons. Its official name was the Sugar Bowl, but to be perfectly honest, how many other ice cream parlors were any good in Duckburg? You could get as much ice cream as you liked for cheap, the sundaes were to die for, there was a strict ban on shark-related schemes, plots, or shenanigans of any kind, and their sea-salt shakes were always too good for words.

The Duckburg Ice Cream Parlor also never existed.

“It’s a green light! _ Go!” _

“Sure thing, Mr. McDee!” Launchpad put his foot on the gas.

Scrooge tugged his jacket around him. “Have you seen my blue coat?”

“Hm.. You know, I don’t remember you wearing a blue coat. Ever. Always been that red one that looks like it got caught on the wrong side of an auction-house.” He turned the wrong way. “Drake says hi, by the way.”

“Drake who?”

He stared. “Uh, Drake Mallard? My husband?”

“Oh. Oh, right, Launchpad. Sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s... fine, Mr. McDee. Just take it easy. You know, forgetting is the first sign of ice fever.”

“How did I get ice fever if there’s no ice?”

“Isn’t that what you need to ask yourself?”

“There is no ice fever! Gold fever, maybe, but not ice-”

“Gold fever’s the thing that Mr. Not-Scrooge made up.”

“No, it’s real. I got it when we went to Ronguay to get the treasure of the golden sun.”

Which Launchpad would have been there for..._ Damn it. _He was really losing it.

“Sounds untrue to me! Here’s your stop, the Chestnut Cafe.” He smiled, looking at it and only just remembering to park. “Isn’t this the shady place that you had to bribe your way out of a court battle with?”

“No, you’re thinking the Full Moon Inn. And it’s one of my properties. This isn’t.”

The Chestnut Cafe was a little rough around the edges, but good enough. Scrooge liked this place because a hearty breakfast and drink could be obtained for cheap, and their booze was pretty good. He thanked Launchpad, asked him to be back in two hours, and picked a table near the front of the restaurant.

Flintheart came a few minutes later, glaring at someone looking over. They were clearly fascinated with the world’s richest ducks going to this place for supper.

“Hate it when everyone wants to get involved in our business,” growled Flintheart. “Makes you just wanna pummel the lot of them.”

“Do you pummel people often?”

“I refuse to answer that question. And no.”

Scrooge was about to say something when the waiter asked Glomgold what he wanted to drink. They placed their orders, cheap French Toast for Scrooge and some nice pasta for Glomgold, and the waiter promised them that their food would be ready quickly.

“You know, I thought we’d meet up at the Sugar Bowl?”

“I looked on the map. I remember the Sugar Bowl, but it doesn’t exist here, and it looks like the Chestnut Cafe is our best bet.. Wait, how did you know where if you thought we were meeting elsewhere?”

Glomgold groaned, shaken awake from his dream. “Irrelevant, McDuck. What else doesn’t exist here?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve been asking about gold fever-”

He brightened up. “I remember that! I fooled you into thinking you were dying without the help of your loved ones! It was a _ brilliant _scheme to drive you mad-”

“And it was also why I couldn’t get to the Treasure of the Sun,” reminded Scrooge.

“What treasure of the- _ oh. _The ruins?”

It was a faded old memory, colored in brilliant lapis and aquamarine. Scrooge could picture it now, how easily he had been overcome by the grand golden palace, how he simply wanted more and more gold, so much he could drown in it, and how he nearly got himself killed trying to seek it. 

He could also remember that this was when he was wearing a coat that he never bought, in a country that he didn’t go to, facing an enemy that had never existed. 

“That one. I was overcome by gold fever. Obsessed with the stuff.”

“Well, aren’t you now, Scroogey?”

“You know what I mean. I was driven half-mad, and all of a sudden so much that I care about isn’t real!” Scrooge slammed his fist on the table. “This isn’t even _ fair! _ I just picked it up to look at it. _ You _were trying to steal it!”

Glomgold seemed hurt by that, but he pushed through it. “Hey! It’s not my fault!”

“You brought it upon yourself!”

“I did _ not!” _

Things would have progressed had the waiter not arrived with everyone’s things. Scrooge was too hungry to pass up his meal in favor of punching Glomgold smack in the gob, so instead he started to eat. Glomgold took a sip of his hot cocoa.

“You know,” he said once the waiter left, “you can’t blame me for you picking up that gem!”

“I’m not _ blaming _you,” Glomgold muttered, in a voice too quiet. “I’m just saying this was not my fault, either.”

“Oh. Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

“By hearing me out. You know, you used to respect me.”

“Wha-?"

He sighed, looking Scrooge in the eye, uncharacteristically serious. “I used to be someone that was feared in society. People thought I was capable of anything.”

Scrooge was about to say “Sure, Flintheart, and I’m the heir to the Queen of England”. But looking at his face, he saw how important this was to him.

“Can you understand that? People used to _ respect _me.” Flintheart waved his cane around for dramatic effect, almost accidentally knocking over his hot chocolate. “They used to take me seriously!”

If he thought more about it, yes, Scrooge could remember.

“I ran a cut-throat business empire, easily rivaling yours down to a gallon of silver dollars- sometimes, even down to two dollars and 38 cents!- and people did _ not _ laugh at my evil schemes and share embarrassing pictures of me eating shrimp or falling off a ladder!” He glanced at his phone. “Which are trending worldwide- damn it! People used to say, oh, it’s Glomgold, he’s a selfish bastard but I wonder what he’s up to, what a legacy, moving forward, everything’s going to be _ wonderful _, and when I went missing...” He blinked away what might have been a tear.

Scrooge felt a little bit of some strange, unprecedented emotion.

“What happened?”

“They _ looked for me." _

He would’ve apologized, said that if he knew, he would have gone to look for him in the harbor. But there was nothing to say. “It really is bothering you.”

“You would be bothered if suddenly you went from being a part of the most intense rivalry that the business world has ever seen to just a _ joke _in Action News Today.” 

An apology really was owed, wasn't it? “And I _ am _sorry. About that.”

He clicked his tongue. “Well, at least you said it.”

“How much do you remember of how we met?”

“I muddled my mind enough trying to leave behind Duke Baloney,” snapped Flintheart.

“Right.” The whole Duke Baloney thing _ wasn’t _Scrooge’s fault. How was he supposed to know that not paying one shoe-shine would lead to the shoe-shine developing a rage for him and inventing a persona to best him? “Tell me about him.”

“That’s private..”

“I know, but. Maybe it’d help you make sense of it. I’ll pay for the meal, if you want. And drinks. Just please, tell me if you can.”

He shut his eyes. “Fine. Well, when he was fifteen, he left for Edinbirdugh to get revenge for an unpaid debt. That was you. When he was twenty, he became- well, I…. became Flintheart Glomgold. That’s on me, that’s my fault.”

“When did _ you _leave South Africa?”

His eyes were still closed as he hummed a bit, trying to remember.

“Don’t worry,” Scrooge assured him. “It’s there, you just need to-”

“I can talk about it, then.”

“Of course. Tell me-”

“I can tell you that it’s none of your business,” Flintheart said steadily in an accent that Scrooge had a hard time recalling. “I was just trying to make myself a living, McDuck, and we can’t all make an honest one! Sometimes you have to swear on somethin’ you know is bullshit, and…” He trailed off, opening his eyes. “And… That’s where it stops.. I can’t remember how I got to Edinbirdugh in that memory. I just remember being there in another memory- and my beard looked different… I was born Flintheart in that memory. Not Duke.”

“Now you know.”

“It can’t get worse, can it?”

Scrooge sighed. “I’d hope not, but at this point we’re a bit past hope.”

They continued eating their meals in relative silence until Flintheart ordered a whiskey and Coke.

“It’s too early to drink, isn’t it?” asked Scrooge.

“Six P.M. isn’t early. Besides, _ Scroogey, _isn’t it too early to deal with any of this?”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Hey, sir? Please get me a neat scotch.”

When their drinks came, they continued to talk about what to do.

“You know, it still makes no sense,” muttered Scrooge as he took a pull of the scotch. “Goldie didn’t know that we’d find that sapphire, but she still knew not to touch it. Though maybe it was just regular caution..”

“Say, did she recognize it as soon as she saw it?”

“Yeah, which is strange.. There are other sapphires that look just like that one. I should know.”

“Who suggested the Tunnels of Tourmaline?”

“She practically dragged me there.” Not that he needed much of a reason to go with her.

Glomgold smiled. “Look, I’ve done it before! I’ve paid her to seek out treasures, maybe someone else had the same _ genius _idea as yours truly!”

The thought that she had used him to get a treasure was… well, depressing, but not very unlikely. She _ did _ steal the Goose Egg Nugget, the biggest gold piece in the world. Or at least _ try _to steal it... somewhere or other, he couldn't remember when or where, but it certainly wasn't here. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

He glared. “Be nice, McDuck. But she worked for me, remember? Maybe she’s working for someone else this ti- _ agh! _”

He gagged on a piece of shrimp; thankfully, Scrooge had learned basic first aid and a few surgical procedures. Twenty seconds later, Glomgold was catching his breath and cursing, half-threatening people to delete footage of the incident off of their phones.

“Are you okay, Mr. Glomgold?!” shouted the owner of the Chestnut Cafe, running over from the back. "_And_ Mr. McDuck? We're honored you're here, but we want-"

“I’m… I’m fine, just- just a bit upset, that’s all. I really wanted this to be a discreet visit.”

“So sorry, sir! Feel free.” They reached their hand out, shaking Glomgold’s and reaching for Scrooge's.

"I don't think so," he muttered, shaking his head.

The restaurant owner nodded, putting on an embarrassed smile, and took a while to start heading away.

“People get so _ strange _around trillionaires,” murmured Scrooge.

Flintheart rolled his eyes. “Listen to yourself and ask if that’s a reasonable complaint.”

“Right. You’re a billionaire, aren’t you?”

“That hurt.”

“So did choking.”

“True, I suppose. I guess I owe you one.” He took a drink of the whiskey-and-Coke before continuing. “But so far, we have two choices- Goldie is just cautious and won’t fling herself blindly into danger like _ certain _stunning examples of ingenuity-” he gestured to himself- “or she’s working for someone.”

“Well, Goldie’s pragmatic, but when it comes to treasure, she’s anything but cautious, so it has to be the last one, but…” Scrooge tapped his fork on his plate a bit, trying to come to a conclusion. “Someone like who?”

They thought for a bit before coming to the same thought, saying it at the same time.

_ “Magica DeSpell!” _

“This could be a good way to compromise my money bin and my Number One Dime, if I let my guard down enough!”

“If I had a gemstone that could open up other worlds, I’d want to study it and _ scheme _to become-”

“-a witch with control of other _ universes!” _

“-or the best Scottish billionaire world-traveller in the _ galaxy.” _He made a strange noise of disgust, somewhere between a quack and a growl. “Eugxh. That’s starting to sound less and less, I dunno- intimidating.”

“Well, I remember you not doing that, if that helps.”

“Yeah! That’s it.”

“You know, I remember wearing a blue coat, too…”

“Blue is your color, but red’s just as nice.” He thought. “Why not set up a scheme for Goldie? I’ll pretend to sell an artifact, then she’ll come to steal it, and then I’ll take the gemstone, this time tiptoeing _ around _the curse!”

“It’s a _ curse _, you can’t tiptoe around a-” He blinked. “Well, if you had worn gloves, but I doubt touching a cursed gemstone again will help that.”

“It’s a wonderful idea, Scroogey, isn’t it?” he continued, grinning. “What would you ever do without me?”

“Succeed in business unfettered. And legitimately.”

“Last time I met someone as holier-than-thou as you, they had a halo.” He smirked.

They finished their drinks, going for another round. Glomgold wrote down their ideas, which they discussed and fought over in the way that only they could (“We are neither going to set a shark-bomb on Goldie _ nor _simply kill her!”).

After two scotches, Scrooge was well-and-truly done, not very drunk but definitely feeling a bit off. Glomgold went for a whiskey and tonic, which he drank with an unsettling amount of ease. He was about to ask for another when Scrooge cut him off.

“I’m stopping you now, Glomgold. No more. I’m asking for the check.”

“I’m not even drunk. I’m bigger than you, and I have more tolerance, which means I can drink more.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean ‘go for more drinks!’ They shouldn’t even serve you that much at once..”

“When you’re a billionaire, you get more… what the hell is it called… Customer service. Loopholes in everything... “

“You can’t drive like this. Wait, did you drive?”

“Owlson gave me a ride. She and her girlfriend were driving over to St. Canard to cover a story, and it was on the way.” He groaned. “Dunno why she had to date Roxanne Featherly, but they’re happy.”

Scrooge could concede that. “Well, we very well can’t call her over now. Maybe Launchpad can bring you over to your place.”

Glomgold knew that it wasn’t worth protesting, so he just shrugged and muttered something like “I mean, I don’t see a _ great _reason why not, Scroogey, but I’ll get back at you for embarrassing me like this”.

Within a few minutes, Launchpad sent them a text. The cool night air refreshed them a little bit as they made their way into the limo.

“Er... McDuck Manor, Launchpad,” called Scrooge as he settled in.

“It’s not like you to forget your seatbelt, Mr. McDee. And not-Mr. McDee, too.” Launchpad smiled. “A ticket’s a hundred dollars.”

After they fastened their belts, he started to drive, much more carefully now. Scrooge supposed that it was because of the Darkwing Duck comics he had in the front seat.

“Inviting me over?” asked Glomgold.

“Definitely not.. Then where- where do you even live, Glomgold? In your office?”

“You can just drop me off there.” He sighed, clearly not welcoming the silence.

“Feeling okay?”

“...This just doesn’t seem all right, McDuck. None of this.”

“It _ is _ all right. We’ll be okay. You see, I’m an adventurer! It’s what I do! I’ll find the solution to this, and I’ll give us back to us before you know it!” He smiled at him before shivering a bit. Drinking made him cold. Glomgold handed him something, and without thinking Scrooge put it on, but in the next moments he really began to understand.

There was a comfortable weight around his shoulders, one with the scent of flowers and vanilla. Taking it off, he saw that he had put on a navy-blue blazer that was too big, too flashy, and too impractical for him to wear. It took him a few seconds to connect the pieces.

“You gave me your jacket?”

“I’ll take it back if you insist upon being a right pain in the arse..”

He could have sworn he saw him like this before. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember, but all that came up now was some sort of half-formed memory, a memory of them being beak-to-beak in an argument and thinking about how frustratingly close it was to-

Scrooge felt his eyelids grow heavy. He hugged the jacket around himself a little tighter.

“We’re home, Mr. McDee,” he heard someone say, but he didn’t care as he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading.


	3. The Damned of Duckburg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: more drinking, a little bit of swearing, and dissociation. Please consider these warnings standard for the entire fic.

Launchpad was a very good chauffeur. He knew it, and he was proud of it. He had recently gotten his license, and he was crashing the car into the garage wall only three times a month or so. And no-one had ever,  _ ever  _ gotten injured. He could read situations, know when something was okay to make a few mistakes with and when it wasn’t worth the risk of letting his mind fuzz.

When Flintheart Glomgold was in the car, Launchpad decided this would be one of the latter times.

“Have you taken him back inside?” he asked.

“Yeah. He’s sleeping in his bed now. Good for him. Now, uh, where do you want to be…?”

“Get me to home,” murmured Glomgold, taking a sip of beer.

“Where did you get that from?” asked Launchpad.

“Oh.” He straightened up. “Er, from the…  _ not  _ from the secret drink stash that Scroogey has!”

Launchpad glared at him. “You’re trying to scheme against Mr. McDee! Nice try, but no-one fools Launchpad McQuack except Launchpad McQuack!”

“Agh, lad, not everything’s a scheme!”

“But you said–”

“Look, I’m sorry I lied. Yeah, I stole his drink, but I need to get home! Do you want me staying in Scrooge’s- I mean, McDuck’s house overnight?!”

Launchpad thought through his options. He did not have good options.

“All right. But in the car, my rules apply. Wait, I’m still on license observation.. Finish your stolen beverage  _ outside  _ the car, please.”

Glomgold downed his beer, got in, and buckled up. Launchpad took that as a cue to drive.

“Where’s your house, Mr. Not-McDee?” he asked. Glancing in the five rearviews, Launchpad could tell that something was off.

“Er… I- I don’t recall.. Just take me to my offices. Wait, I live.. The offices, yes.”

“You know, you’re acting confused..”

“I’m not confused. I’m drunk as can be.”

“Oh.” He went back to driving. “You know, I saw a jack-in-the-box in the road.”

“In the road?”

_ “In  _ the road! It’s like Quackerjack from Darkwing Duck!”

“That’s just an old TV show. I mean, other than the attempted reboot that Scroogey tried, but…”

“Not anymore! Someone-” Launchpad remembered that his husband, Drake, would probably appreciate no-one knowing his superhero identity. “-who I  _ don’t  _ know… is Darkwing Duck, solving crimes in the real world. Somebody might have watched the episodes and  _ missed  _ that Quackerjack is the bad guy!”

“How the hell could they have done that?”

Launchpad smiled. Finally, someone was hearing him out on this one! (Well, Mrs. Beakley heard him out, that was true, but the more people he could tell about Darkwing Duck, the better.) “See, in the nineties, the standards for superheroes were different, and they were characterized as being funny with colorful outfits or always super serious, but never in a way that appealed to any audience. Darkwing Duck’s like both, and also the subversion of many tropes that-”

As they turned onto a pier, Launchpad quickly reoriented them. Taking another look in the rearview, he noticed something else.

“Why so sad?”

“Because there’s my rival. We were just having a chat..”

Launchpad smiled. “Well, I know all about  _ that.  _ Making friends?”

“Well… no, but we both need to figure something out..”

“Oh, I know about that, too! There was someone who I really didn’t like at first. I thought he was ruining my favorite show! Or, the movie of it… But when I fought him, we ended up playing with action figures instead, and I found out that he- ….Hang on! You tried to  _ kill  _ Mr. McDee, you don’t  _ get  _ an inspiring speech about the light of my life!”

“Agh, no, I never try to kill him, it’s a part of the whole.. Rival thing..” He hiccuped. “I wanna best him, wanna become the best billionaire ever, but… I don’t wanna see the bastard go before I do.”

Launchpad sighed, comforted but not appeased. “Don’t call Mr. McDee that. He took me in, you know.”

“He what?”

“Yeah. See, I needed money to find somewhere to live. Mr. McDee offered forty dollars to drive from here to Ionois to get some ice-cream, because apparently a ‘sea monster’ ate his. Must’ve been  _ some  _ ice cream if he was willing to pay a whole forty dollars to replace it.”

Glomgold laughed. “I know how this story ends!”

“You know that I ended up living in his garage?”

“Not that, it’s about his ice cream! It was no ice cream! It was half his fortune!” He laughed again. “Ah, I remember when he tried to hide his fortune from me, but he couldn’t get it past old Glomgold. Nothing on Heaven or Earth-”

This poor soul. No wonder he couldn’t beat Scrooge. “It was ice cream, Not-Mr. McDee. I had a few scoops. It wasn’t a fortune…”

“Huh?! Oh, I- I thought…”

Alcohol was a strange drug. Launchpad didn’t have a taste for it himself. “See, I was sick of working in Cape Suzette-  _ one  _ attack by sky-pirates is too many!- and, well, that’s that. Now I live in his garage.” He sighed, exacerbated. “Don’t say  _ anything  _ bad about Mr. McDee. You’re never gonna get him to like you at that rate.”

“It’s worth a-  _ wait!  _ I do not like him!”

“So you just gave him his jacket, you explicitly  _ don’t  _ kill him, and you spend years obsessing over what he thinks of you?”

“That’s perfectly non-romantic!”

Launchpad hummed as he stopped. “Whatever it is, it’s bad for you. Take it from me! I’ve had many girlfriends. Boyfriends. Partners. And I’m married to a wonderful man, and I’m everybody’s friend! I know how people work.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah! Years of watching Mr. McDee repress his emotions has done  _ wonders  _ for my knowledge on human interaction!” Glancing in the rearviews to park and get himself a soda, he saw something strange. “Uh, Mr. Not-McDee? You didn’t take your jacket back, and it seems like he was wearing it when I led him inside. If you want, I can drive back and get it for you!”

“Eh? Oh, yeah. I guess it’s his now, I don’t want it again.”

Launchpad covered his beak. “Oh, no! He really was drunk to accept a jacket from  _ you!” _

“Very nice, I see..”

“No, I mean it! Why would you  _ give  _ him your jacket unless it was full of shark-bombs? Or maggots?! Also, why are there maggots in your jacket?!”

“T-there  _ were  _ no maggots! He was cold, what was I supposed to do?” Glomgold leaned back. “It’s just decency.”

“You know,” said Launchpad carefully, “if you like him, you should say so.”

“What?! I do not like him! I hate him!”

“I know when someone wants to date someone else.”

“But-Even if I wanted to date Scrooge, which I  _ don’t,  _ I already  _ have  _ a date! She’s one of my bagpipe players!”

Launchpad thought about the line of musicians that usually accompanied Glomgold to press conferences and portals to the Dimension where The Swirling Ambient Shapes Merge (where, coincidentally, Launchpad met one of his partners who was an exact clone of him but much more easily impressed). “Which one of the bagpipe players?”

“Uh… She definitely has a face… which is beautiful. And she breathes, and was born at some point-”

“We don’t have to talk about this, then. Sorry.” He turned back to his driving. If he had made Glomgold uncomfortable… “I’m sorry, Mr. Not-McDee, if you didn’t want to talk about that…”

“It’s all right.” 

It did not look all right. He hated thinking that he upset someone! “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s all right, I tell you. Hey! Hey, this is my home!”

“Sorry! These are your offices!”

“I live here!”

Oh. “Er… okay, Mr. Glomgold.” He stopped the car. “Think you’ll be all right? I can still get your jacket-”

“The old relic can keep it.”

Waving him goodbye, Launchpad thought about how weird it was that Flintheart Glomgold never stopped talking about Mr. McDee. At this point, though, the best thing he could do was nothing.

He picked up a soda at Hamburger Hippo before driving home. He needed to support Drake as he finished the season finale of Truth or Crunch-Equences, where the people who failed the show were, in fact, crunched.

“Morbid,” Launchpad said to himself before smiling and starting the car up again.

* * *

Scrooge McDuck had committed a crime against himself in indulging in his past memories.

...Then again, if waltzing carelessly into the Chestnut Cafe with Flintheart Glomgold, glutting himself on whiskey and cheap French Toast, and waking up wearing his enemy’s jacket wasn’t a  _ greater  _ crime against himself.... 

He was definitely not acting smarter than the smarties.

He got up and took Duckworth’s advice of drinking some ginger ale with crackers.

The jacket had the scent of… well, he couldn’t tell if it was cologne or perfume, but whatever it was, it had some kind of comforting quality. Come to think of it, it was a bit like the bottle of amber perfume that Goldie had kept in her purse.

No, not Goldie… What was her name?

_ Her hair was done up, in a style from a time gone by, and her eyes were warm. Goldie had aged since then and her beauty had only grown as the fire in her eyes did, as her heart blossomed– there could be no-one else– but the other one, the younger one, she was wearing an amber perfume when she asked him to marry her- _

Brigitta MacBridge was her name!

Curious, he went to go look her up on his phone. She had her own empire, after all, having worked hard and almost beating Velma Vanderduck in competition…

Apparently she didn’t exist, or at least not the Brigitta he knew.

Neither did Velma Vanderduck. Or Jubal Pomp, that man who wanted to help her and become just as rich. His dear Rockerduck (had he earned the right to call him ‘dear’?) had gone down a different path, somewhere along the way. Or Whippleman the secretary, or El Capitan the fighter, or even….

_ Don’t think about her! Don’t think about her. Don’t dare to. _

In this world, these names meant nothing.

He sighed, propping himself up and taking small sips. Honestly, all he wanted to do right now was just try to figure out what Goldie O’Gilt wanted with that gem, and where she was…

Scrooge received a text on his phone. It was just a link that Della sent him, along with "Have you seen this?!":  _ Glomgold Industries Announcing Gala. _

Within three seconds, he connected to Action News Today, which showed Glomgold at a podium standing alongside Zan Owlson.

_ “Hello, Duckburg and investors!” _ shouted Glomgold.  _ “I have good news for us all! Dimes for Ducklings, the charity… er, Ms. Owlson, could you-” _

_ “Yes, the charity started to help raise awareness for childhood conditions and dedicated towards assisting the healing process in a healthy environment… we have decided to start a charity event on Friday the 25th!” _

_ “Please come! Not only will there be free triple-mint-ripple ice cream from the Sugar B-”  _ He caught himself. _ “-from Rockerduck Road Ice Cream Company, it’ll take place in the world-famous Flintheart Glomgold wing of Duckburg Natural History Museum, exhibiting a rare jewel that has taken me years to obtain, the Jack of Diamonds…” _

Something gelled in Scrooge’s memory as he tugged the jacket closer. Yes, the Jack of Diamonds, from when they fought to be the son of the Sun, in the  _ other time,  _ but-

_ “...and the Candy-Striped Ruby, on loan from Scrooge McDuck!”  _ He smiled, looking very tired.

_ “This is a momentous occasion set to-” _

Scrooge turned it off.

Sighing, he tried to take a nap. He remembered that something unhappy was connected to the Candy-Striped Ruby, something very-

He received a call on his landline. Groaning, he picked it up.

_ “Hey, Scroogey.” _

“For the love of- what do you want?!” He tried to sound as unhappy to hear him as possible. Because, well, he  _ was  _ unhappy to hear him! He was sick, after all!

_ “Can I borrow the Candy-Striped Ruby?” _

“Why?”

_ “Unknown reasons.” _

“Not so unknown. I heard you announcing your plans.”

_ “Drat.” _

“What are you planning?”

_ “Oh, it’s a bit of genius. Goldie never, ever, under any circumstances, managed to get her hands on the Candy Striped Ruby. I’m trying to remember any other universes, and it seems to be one of her lost treasures. If it’s a trinket she hasn’t managed to steal… well, Goldie O’Gilt’s gonna try and get it!” _

“Are you feeling well? You’re thinking clearly.”

_ “Why, thank you– oh, that was low, McDuck. Hush. I’ll talk to you next time.” _

Scrooge felt the line go dead, sighed, and went back to take a nap. 

Before he did, though, he went to hang up the jacket. He didn’t want it getting ruined, and he’d keep it for as long as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot has happened, i am sorry. I had to move back home after school moved online and my computer broke. Good news is that I'm determined to finish this fic!  
Thank you so much to everyone who read/left comments/left kudos. I truly do appreciate your presence here and hope you enjoy the rest of the fic.  
Be good to yourselves, and take care.


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